


Only One

by TheRoarOfAtlas



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: F/M, I will never not be a sap, Master Of A Thousand And Four Innuendos, Porn with Feelings, the List knows all, the festival of friendship hurt me okay, thirst party saturday, this Jericho is a damn buffoon, this got a little out of hand, unnamed ofc - Freeform, whoops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-05
Updated: 2017-03-05
Packaged: 2018-09-28 10:00:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10090235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRoarOfAtlas/pseuds/TheRoarOfAtlas
Summary: My first attempt at writing the gift that is Jericho!Enjoy![x-posted to Tumblr]





	

**Author's Note:**

> [!TRIGGER WARNING!: This will contain a few allusions to significant (around twenty years) difference in age.]

‘ _The List of Jericho_.’

 

It was _perfect_. The lettering on the back was precise, the metal of the clipboard polished to a silver sheen. He would start off with ten sheets of the nicest lined paper he could get his hands on, and a pen that felt _good_ to write with.

 

Chris Jericho was a man on a mission, accosting interns and stagehands and demanding to try their pens. Where _else_ did you get pens these days, really? Kevin had rolled his eyes at his antics but what did _he_ know?

 

Finally. After what felt like _months_ (and was probably only three days or so) one pen scribbled across his test page and he stopped dead. _Perfect_. He wasn’t even sure where he’d gotten it. The interns and stage hands were apparently tired of his search and had started hiding their pens from him, or offering him _inferior_ ballpoints. But this one. It _sang_ on the page, the ink cobalt blue and vibrant. Jericho was hooked.

 

The List grew quickly, as the hunt for the perfect pen had hindered its advancement. Chris had the feeling that he would be doling out punishment for the foreseeable future. He wasn’t really paying attention to how fast he was burning through ink, until one night the pen ran dry as he was trying to write Tom Phillips in. Panic struck him. Without the _pen_ , his List was _nothing!_

A hand suddenly snatched the pen from his grasp and Jericho made a despondent noise.

 

“So _that’s_ where my pen went! What the heck, Mr. Jericho?” It was one of the stage hands. Chris could never remember their names, all of them blurring together into a mass of black polo shirts and coffee cups with his name on them. “And of _course_ , you wrote it empty. Great. Now I have to get another one. Like having to borrow pens from everyone else for a week wasn’t bad enough.” She grumbled.

 

Jericho perked up. “Get another one? Where? How much? Can I give you like. Money and you can get me more of those pens?”

 

“Considering the fact that you _stole_ this one, no. Get one of the other guys to do it.” She snapped angrily.

 

_Oh. I have to apologize if I want anything done_. Chris cringed. He wasn’t particularly _fond_ of apologizing. The idea of him doing anything that would actually _require_ an apology was pretty laughable. “I uh. I’m sorry. I don’t actually know where I got ahold of that pen. I promise I didn’t lift it off you. I would remember.” A little flattery never hurt anyone. “It just writes so well, and I needed the perfect pen for my List.”

 

She huffed, but Jericho noticed her cheeks pinking up. “…how many of them do you need?” She asked finally, crossing her arms over her chest.

 

Chris blinked. He hadn’t expected her to cave so quickly. _Still got it, Jericho!_ “How big of a pack do they sell them in?”

 

“I think they have ten packs-”

 

“Get me six of those. I’ll…here hang on.” Chris dug his wallet out of his tight jeans. “How far away is the store, I’ll factor in gas.”

 

She looked at him, seeming bewildered. “You want _sixty_ pens?”

 

“You’re right, shit. More than that. Just…if they’ll sell you a whole box, get me that. I need these pens, man.” Chris appreciated her intelligence. _Obviously_ she understood the importance of his List. “How soon can you get them? Can you get them tonight? Or do you have to still do chairs and all that?”

 

“I-I should be able to run out real quick. We’re set for chairs and matting the area. I’ll definitely be back before you’re called, okay?” She replied, flinching when Jericho grabbed her hand and pressed a few crumpled fifty dollar bills into it. “Oh, this is way too much Mr. Jericho, they’re only like-”

 

“You’re doing me a huge favor, just _hurry_.” Chris said impatiently. “Unless you want me to put _you_ on the List too!”

 

She cracked a smile at that and Chris felt his stomach do an odd backflip. “Oh no, oh hell no. That’s a fate worse than death. I’ll be back with your pens. _And_ your change.”

 

She returned within the hour, a little out of breath when she showed up with a large box and a coffee at he and Kevin’s shared dressing room. Chris was _thrilled_ , there were even different _colors!_ Imagining the possibilities, the fresh new organization of his List, he balanced the box and coffee on one arm and shook her hand fervently. “Thank you.” He was half-surprised that he actually _meant_ it.

 

“It wasn’t any trouble. I’m sorry I yelled at you earlier.” She apologized, her smile a little more sheepish this time. “Having a kind of tough day.”

 

“What happened?” Chris had no idea why the hell he asked _that_ , what did he care?

 

She waved him off anyway. “I won’t bore you with that crap. Receipts and change are in the box. Enjoy your pens. Don’t steal any more of mine, okay?”

 

“Absolutely not. I…thank you.” Jericho didn’t understand why he felt awkward. “I uh. I hope the rest of your night goes a little better.”

 

“Thank you! Um, good luck. With your list.”

 

It wasn’t until after the show that Jericho, gathering up his personal items, realized that she’d ordered herself a coffee as well when she got him one. _Huh_. He studied the receipt, not sure why at first. Chris clicked his fresh pen in his hand a few times, then flipped to the last page on his clipboard and began to write.

 

…

 

The look on her face when he sought her out on the following Monday was _incredibly_ gratifying. Chris felt warm all over as she stammered and accepted the cup of coffee. “How’d I know your order? It’s a secret. I know _everything_.” He grinned.

 

One of the other stage hands hollered at her to “ _stop flirting and get a move on!_ ”, his loud voice making her jump.

 

“S-Sorry, I have to-” She started to apologize but Chris was already clicking a new pen. The ink in it was red as Raw and he shuffled his papers around until he found a bit of free space.

 

“What’s that guy’s name.”

 

“Mr. Jericho-”

 

“What’s. His. _Name_.” Chris was confused at his own angry reaction but figured he’d roll with it. His instincts were usually pretty decent.

 

“Gary, but you don’t-”

 

“Hey Gary!” Jericho called loudly, making the other man look up. With a wide flourish of his arm Chris gestured down at his List. “You just made the List, buddy!”

 

Gary shook his head, grunting something under his breath and stomping off. “He’s one of the senior stage hands, Mr. Jericho. You probably shouldn’t have upset him.” She said quietly.

 

“He shouldn’t have interrupted me! And neither should you, I was in the middle of doing something.” Chris attempted to sound stern as he continued writing ‘ _Gary_ ’. “I told you, I’ll put _you_ on here if you don’t watch it.”

 

“Oh no, don’t put me on the List. Oh gee.” Her sarcastic tone made Chris grin. When he looked up and saw her smiling too, his stomach flip-flopped oddly. She cleared her throat after a second, dropping her eyes to the coffee in her hand. “Thank you again for the coffee, Mr. Jericho. You didn’t have to.”

 

“I know.” Jericho tried for his usual cocky smirk, but it felt a little too soft. He turned on his heel and headed off, loosening his scarf around his neck as he left.

 

…

 

It occurred to him as he was preparing for the show that he might…just _might_ , have an… _interest_.

 

“An interest that is not entirely platonic.” Kevin deadpanned from the couch in their dressing room. “In layman’s terms, you’re into her.”

 

Jericho huffed at him, straightening out his jacket. “What would you know, you’re wifed up.” He pointed out childishly. “So I get her coffee sometimes, what’s the big deal?”

 

“You know her order by _heart_ and you almost ripped that guy at the Tim Hortons in half because he fucked it up. Which means you’ve tasted her order before, if only to ensure quality. You put the drink guy _and_ that Gary guy that you said yelled at her on your List.” Kevin rattled off, looking bored.

 

“I put a _lot_ of people on the List!” Jericho protested.

 

“Mm, but not dumb, random people.” Kevin leaned back, lacing his fingers together behind his head. “Face it, you’ve got it bad.”

 

“I didn’t _ask_ you, did I?”

 

“Don’t have to. We’re partners. I know these things.” Owens yawned, ever the picture of insolence. “You’re also an open book. You’d think that after being in this business for so long you would have learned how to act a little better. I grew up watching you and I thought you were a badass. But now…”

 

“I’m sorry I don’t _enjoy_ stifling my existence like you do, Owens.” Chris replied haughtily, focused on wrapping his scarf just right so it wouldn’t fall off.

 

“It’s not stifling it, I’m kinda’ private is all. Everyone doesn’t need to know my business. They’re not really here for _me_ anyway, they’re here for an angry guy who yells a lot and gets frustrated.” Kevin shrugged. “That’s not me all the time, but that’s what they’re here for. I’m not saying it’s _bad_ that you’re interested in someone, Chris. It’s just…out of character. You’ve got the rockstar look and personality, but none of the games behind it.”

 

“Tell me how you really feel Kevin, yikes.”

 

“Okay, I think you need to go ask her out before something happens. I don’t _want_ to deal with you hang-dogging around and cluttering up _our_ List with boyfriends that aren’t even yours.” Kevin said plainly, giving Chris’s shoulder a shove. It wasn’t exactly a _fond_ gesture, but Chris knew that he meant well.

 

Probably.

 

…

 

Jericho realized what Owens was talking about, seconds too late. He stood in the doorway of the bar, pretty sure that his face was an unfortunate shade of purple.

 

He had spotted her backstage earlier in the night, and his stomach had clenched because she wasn’t wearing the usual black polo. Instead, she wore a shirt he knew far too well, the black one with the red raised fist that stated _RAW IS JERICHO_ in blocky lettering. He’d meant to say something, but Kevin needed to speak with him and then he lost sight of her. And now he was too late, too damn late. She sat at the bar, smiling and laughing with one of her male coworkers. She looked so good wearing his merch. She had no _right_ to torment him like this, what the heck had he ever done to her?!

 

_Oh, the pen thing_. He cringed. _I did_ _ **kind**_ _of say I was sorry, should have put more effort into it_. Chris made up his mind. He was Chris goddamn Jericho! The Lion Heart! Master Of A Thousand And Four fucking Holds! He wasn’t about to be upstaged by some hipster kid half his age, probably drinking _wheat tea_ or some shit like that. Stuffing his hands into his pockets, he all but swaggered to the bar and sat down on the barstool beside her. “Come here often, gorgeous?” He asked, barely able to keep a straight face when she quickly turned around.

 

“Chris! Um, I mean Mr. Jericho. H-How are you?” She twiddled her fingers, seeming flustered. “I…I didn’t expect to see you here.” Her coworker, obviously understanding that he was outmatched, bid her goodnight and gave Jericho a knowing wink over her head.

 

Chris barely resisted the urge to snarl at the other man, hastily redirecting his attention to her. “You can call me Chris, if you want. I won’t tell.”

 

“I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have…that was really unprofessional of me.” She apologized.

 

Jericho chuckled. “I think I busted through that issue when I started picking up coffee for you, princess.” He pointed out, “I’m not exactly the most professional guy on the roster. Your secret is safe with me.”

 

“Thank you. I…I try not to be star-struck. I think I did pretty good, all things considered. I…” She paused when Jericho’s hand landed on her knee, swallowing hard. “Sorry about the shirt. I’ve had it for ages.”

 

“Why the heck are you apologizing?” Chris asked, genuinely puzzled.

 

“It’s like a cry for attention, Mr. Jericho. _Super_ unprofessional! I just…” She fidgeted with the hem of her shirt for a second. “I like being noticed every once in a while, you know?”

 

“Who doesn’t notice _you?_ They’re going on my List.” He threatened.

 

Her grateful smile made his throat tighten. “You’re so sweet. Thank you, Mr. Jericho.”

 

“Just call me Chris from now on, okay? Because if you keep calling me Mr. Jericho after this beautiful talk we’ve had, I’m gonna’ put you on the List.” When the _hell_ had his voice dropped into that lower register?

 

“…Alright. Chris.” She said his name slowly this time, like she was savoring it.

 

Chris felt a shiver traipse down his spine and he barely kept from raking a hand through his hair. He hadn’t had it long enough to do that in _years_ , why the heck would he return to that _now?_

 

They sat at the bar for quite a while, talking about damn near everything. She gave him numerous openings to talk about himself and he was only too happy to oblige, recapping year after year spent in the professional wrestling and musician ranks.

 

“I’ve always wanted to do this, you know. I mean, not work backstage necessarily, but I wanted to learn from the ground up. I know a lot of people think that as long as they’re physically fit they have a shot and they just don’t _get it_ , you know? It’s about so much more than the stunts. Nothing would happen if it wasn’t for the road crew, for the tech guys and the makeup girls. Coming in at the lowest level made me appreciate that.” She spoke with such conviction, practically _rambling_ when he asked her why she’d gotten into the business.

 

Jericho was abruptly reminded of a much younger him forcing Goldberg into a front facelock for insulting his mother. He’d felt passion like that once, like traveling to the next city and the itch under his skin to compete, to learn and grow and show everyone what he could do was _everything_ , was the _only_ thing.

 

Somewhere along the way though, something had happened. _Shit_ , now he couldn’t even buy his own _pens_. Coffee was a necessary struggle but that didn’t stop him from abandoning one drive-thru in search of another if the line was deemed too long. Maybe Kevin was right. Maybe he _had_ gotten soft. Jericho wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

 

She seemed to notice how quiet he’d gotten, a gentle hand covering his own on the bar. “Hey, did I say something wrong? Am I being annoying?”

 

“No no! Sorry, shit. It’s not you.” Chris tried for his confident smirk but he was pretty sure it looked like a grimace. “I just…headache, you know how it is.”

 

“Oh! I’m sorry. I should probably let you get some sleep then. I didn’t mean to keep you this long, anyway. You ought to know better than let me talk.” She joked.

 

Chris shook his head, holding her hand in his own. “I like listening to you. I’ve had a great time tonight.” The fact that he kept _meaning_ the shit that came out of his mouth was both confusing and relieving. He’d felt fake for so long that it seemed normal.

 

She went bright red, stammering something that he didn’t catch when Chris pressed a kiss to her knuckles. Jericho stood, straightened out his coat and offered her his arm. “May I walk you to your car, madame?”

 

…

 

He didn’t expect it, which should have made it hurt so much more. But as Kevin stood over his body putting on that show of rage that only he could sell, Jericho just felt numb. Zayn had warned him. He’d warned him with that sad look in his eyes, one of his shoulders dipped lower than the other.

 

“ _Kevin doesn’t have friends anymore, Jericho_.”

 

Chris had wanted to believe he was different. He was obviously a better choice than Sami, that was why Kevin had latched onto him. It definitely wasn’t because he was stupid or easily manipulated. Nope.

 

Tears burned his eyes as he made his way backstage, shoving past people in a useless bid to escape Kevin’s harsh actions. All his things were in the hotel room he and Kevin shared, and of course _Kevin_ had the damn key. Chris wanted to scream in frustration. He was hurt and tired and he just wanted to go to bed and forget this terrible fucking day, this absolutely _shit_ day.

 

“Chris?”

 

_Of course_. Jericho closed his eyes for a second, one hand still on the door to the outside as he sucked in a breath. “Yeah?”

 

“Are you okay?” She was worried. That shouldn’t have made him angrier but so soon after what had happened it hit Jericho like a slap to the face.

 

“ _Fuck_ you! ’ _Are you okay?_ ’ Of course I ain’t okay! Get bent princess!” He exploded, whirling on her like a cornered animal. The door was right fucking there, he _could_ leave. “I thought he was my best friend! I let him play me like a goddamn violin! Do you have any idea how pissed off I am right now?! _Do you?!_ ” He didn’t know when he’d gotten so close to her, practically crushing her to the wall with his body. “Have you ever had something like this happen to you? Please, fucking _inform_ me why the hell I would be okay right now!”

 

“Chris, I…” She wouldn’t look him in the eye so he jerked her chin up.

 

“Fucking _answer_ me.” Chris demanded. He knew he wasn’t actually mad at _her_ , but shit, it made him feel a little less furious if he pretended he was. He would willingly beat the shit out of Owens. He would never hurt her. It helped. Barely.

 

When she did finally make eye contact with him though, Chris felt like he’d been bounced off the apron again. She didn’t look scared, thank God, just nervous. Concerned. “Chris?” She asked softly.

 

“Shit, I…I’m sorry.” He apologized, lifting his hands and moving to step away. Her arms wrapped around his waist, tugging him back in against her. One of her hands cupped the nape of his neck, the other curled up on the small of his back. She was _hugging_ him.

 

“Do you have someplace to stay for the night?” She asked softly after a few minutes of silence.

 

Chris shook his head no. It was taking most of his strength to keep from slumping over and pinning her to the wall in the process. His temper had evaporated, leaving him bone-weary and more than a little ashamed of himself. “Kevin has the key to our room.”

 

“Here. Take mine. It’s nothing fancy, but you can at least sleep some of this off.” She offered, fumbling for her wallet and pulling her hotel keycard out. “You’re lucky. I usually have to share a room with someone.”

 

“N-No, I can’t–” Jericho _wanted_ to protest, wanted to drive over to that goddamn hotel and camp in the hallway next to _his_ fucking room until Owens showed up. “Princess, I can’t do that to you. I’ll be alright.”

 

“Like hell you will, you’re distraught and you’re obviously not thinking clearly. I have a spare key, I’m not going to be back in for a while at the rate that this show is going.” She planted her palms on his chest and carefully pushed him towards the door. “Now _go_. Before some other stupid bullshit happens.”

 

…

 

Her hotel room only had one bed. Jericho felt dumb, _obviously_ he should have gathered that. He really, _really_ wanted to shower, but the idea of putting his dirty clothes back on made him grimace. Maybe he could wash his boxers in the sink or something, dry them with the blow dryer. It seemed almost barbaric. He hadn’t had to do that in _ages_ , usually armed with a suitcase full of clean clothes.

 

Chris opened the door to the bathroom and stopped dead at the sight of the _bright_ goddamn red, _lacy_ panties that hung over the shower curtain rod. The matching bra beside them just added to the processing time. _Well,_ _ **that’s**_ _something to think about_. He blinked, hand reaching for the panties before he could stop himself. _They’re fucking small. Cute. I should not be touching these._

 

Jericho snatched up the bra and draped both items over the towel rack hastily, feeling unnaturally worried that someone might see him. He was a grown ass man for fuck’s sake! Couldn’t a grown man pick up a set of underwear? An attractive set of underwear? That should be attached to an equally attractive woman, preferably so he could take it back off? _Fuck, stop it!_ Chris scolded himself, stripping his shirt off over his head and unbuttoning his jeans.

 

His hot shower soothed away some of the aches and pains in his body and reminded Jericho that he was fucking _exhausted_. He barely had the energy to move from his comfortable position against the shower wall, stumbling out of the tub. He wrapped a towel around his waist and gave his boxers a once-over in the sink, having to shake himself awake a few times even as he did it. Usually he didn’t feel his age but tonight he was painfully reminded, head and lower back pounding in tender sync. Chris stared dully at himself in the mirror for a minute, hands full of sopping-wet boxer shorts.

 

“Go to bed, man.” He finally said aloud, waving off his reflection and fumbling with the hair dryer. His boxers were maybe a little damp when he was done, but he just could _not_ stay upright for any longer.

 

He vaguely remembered that she came in at some point well after midnight, the shaft of soft light from the hallway momentarily rousing him. He groaned, rolling over and burying his face in the pillow.

 

“ _Shh, it’s just me_.” Lips pressed to his bare shoulder. “ _I got your things. Sleep_.” A warm body curled around his in a gentle embrace. “ _Sleep, Chris. You’re safe here_.”

 

…

 

Chris woke up the next morning with a numb arm, but he couldn’t bring himself to move it. She looked so content with her head pillowed on his bicep, her breathing slow and quiet. Had she really said he was _safe_ last night, like…like she really _cared_ about him?

 

Jesus Christ, she was maybe _half_ his fucking age. Little more. His morning wood didn’t give a shit but his _brain_ sure as hell did, seeming to wake the fuck up for once and reprimand him for being a goddamn _creep_. Jericho winced. The hum started without his intent, all too familiar words floating to the surface of his mind. _Here I am, I’m in the wrong bed again_ …

 

Chris’s lips twitched and then he carefully tucked an errant strand of hair back behind her ear, unable to help the rueful smile that crossed his face. She stirred, frowning in her sleep and moving even closer to him. Her shirt slid off her shoulder and Jericho swallowed hard at the sight of a red bra strap, fingers already on their way over before he realized it. Snapping bra straps hadn’t been his thing for years but shit if this one didn’t _demand_ it.

 

“You’re an asshole.” She murmured, opening one eye to glare at him.

 

Jericho didn’t really expect the burst of laughter that came out of him, but he was in bed with a beautiful woman probably half his age and he felt pretty good despite everything. He shushed her, rubbing over the irritated skin with his thumb. “ _Je suis désolé_ , m’ sorry. I had to.”

 

“Mm, get fucked.” She replied, grabbing the waistband of his boxers over his hip and slingshotting the elastic back at him. Chris yelped, trying to squirm away as she crooked her fingers into claws and started _tickling_ him. “This is what you get for waking me up, you _dick!_ ”

 

“Mercy! Uncle, uncle!” He begged through his laughter, trying to grab her hands as she flung herself at him.

 

“I went over last night with Sami and we got your things.” She said quietly after he managed to get her tangled in the sheet. “Zayn was livid. I thought he was going to tear Kevin apart at the venue.” She twiddled her fingers beneath the sheet. “Sami says he hopes you’re alright, and that he’s sorry.”

 

“He warned me, y'know. Told me. Not like I hadn’t seen their match, but still. I walked into that situation fully aware. I just…I thought I was smarter than Zayn.” Jericho admitted.

 

She ‘tsk'ed, rolling to look at him. “Pride goeth before a fall and all that.” She reached over the edge of the bed, grabbing his familiar silver clipboard. “Here, I picked it up during the break so that it wouldn’t get thrown away.”

 

Chris took the clipboard from her, feeling more than a little pitiful. “Why the heck are you being so nice to me?” He asked plainly. “I’m obviously an asshole. I just…I don’t get it is all. Sorry.”

 

“You just had the crap kicked out of you by a guy who you thought was your best friend! I think I’m allowed to be nice, even to an asshole like you.” She pointed out.

 

Jericho’s tightening grip on the clipboard made the metal creak weakly. He didn’t know what the hell to do with himself. She just kept looking at him, radiating kindness and worry and Chris didn’t mean to lean in. He really didn’t. He told himself to get the fuck up, get out of the bed and leave, _leaveleaveleave_ because this was _bad_ , so bad. There was no way that this could end well.

 

Then she kissed his forehead, smiled at him, and got up.

 

Just like that.

 

Like it was easy. Simple.

 

“I have to get ready for the next town, answer some emails, but you’re welcome to go back to sleep. I know you’re probably still exhausted. I’ll wake you up when it’s closer to when we need to check out. I um. I guess you’re riding with me? Or is your and Kevin’s rental in your name?” She asked.

 

_Oh, right_. Chris had almost forgotten. “It’s in my name. Check your rental back in and we’ll take mine, save you some cash.” He refused to take no for an answer, silencing her with a pompous hand motion and then rolling over to snuggle back into the blankets.

 

…

 

She wouldn’t let him drive and Chris was secretly grateful. He still put up a fight. He didn’t really _need_ to be coddled, damn it, he would be alright. He’d taken worse bumps than what Kevin had put him through.

 

It was nice though, to be able to sit in the passenger seat and listen to music, absently doodling on his List as the miles trekked by. Kevin always had something to say and it wasn’t often that Jericho could just prop his chin up on his hand and _think_ without being interrupted sixteen times.

 

She stopped to get lunch at some healthy place that boasted ’ _paleo and vegan options!_ ’ on the plate glass window out front. It was entertaining when they both realized that what that meant to the person making the menu was…salad. _Lots_ of salad. She couldn’t stop giggling as Jericho read through, no word of a lie, _twenty-eight_ different variations on the standard rabbit food, ranch dressing-drenched fare.

 

Her laugh was…it was nice. He could definitely get used to hearing it. Could get used to a few other things, if he was being honest. Her knees kept bumping his beneath the table, her sneakers ending up on top of his comfortable boots and Jesus, _Jesus_ he could definitely live with more of this. Chris had no idea how the hell he was supposed to act, she wasn’t really being _flirty_. Not like how he was used to, anyway. She was being more…shit, like they were already a couple. Like they’d already dealt with that first date hurdle and were comfortable with one another.

 

_Well, we did kind of share a bed_. Jericho grimaced inwardly. She beckoned him close after they ordered, asking for his phone and then quickly taking a selfie of the two of them.

 

“Post it, let’s make that asshole jealous.” She grinned mischievously at him. Chris’s insides felt like someone lit them on fire, his whole body going hot at that cocky little smirk.

 

_Oh I’m in big trouble_.

 

She didn’t seem to mind when he snagged some of the little oranges from her salad, or when he leaned in a little closer than he needed to after she pulled up a video on her phone. Chris pushed his luck and placed a kiss on her knuckles as they stood to leave, gratified when a flush rose on her cheeks and she shyly looked away.

 

Never let it be said that Chris Jericho was not a man of action, regardless of whether that action was going to earn him a beating or something more…entertaining.

 

…

 

Chris didn’t have a match that night, thank God. He was distracted enough pacing back and forth in the arena hallway, clicking a pen nervously. He was her ride back to the hotel and yeah, he might have gotten there a little early, but it’s not like it mattered.

 

So he was worried. Fine. It didn’t matter. He was worried about Owens pulling something and it was driving him _insane_. Fine. It didn’t matter. Besides, erring on the side of caution wasn’t a _bad_ idea.

 

It didn’t _matter_.

 

The surge of relief he felt when he saw her making her way towards him was short-lived. “A couple of us are planning on going out for drinks, do you want to come?” She asked, sounding hopeful.

 

Jericho cringed, gripping the pen and his List tightly. _It’s a game I just can’t win_. “Nah, I’ll pass. Do you still need a ride?”

 

She nodded, looking let-down. “I need to change, anyways.”

 

And that was how Chris found himself subjected to helping zip her into a cute, _tight_ little black dress before she headed back down to the lobby bar. Jericho sat down on the bed after she left, heaving a sigh. He flipped to a fresh page on the List and began to write.

 

_The bartender_.

 

_Whoever invited her out_.

 

For being the guy hell-bent on it not mattering, it sure as shit seemed to matter _quite_ a bit. Chris’s brow furrowed angrily. He scribbled over the words, ripping the page with his efforts. Kevin was right and that _pissed him off_. He would fill the damn List with pointless, normal people and what the hell was the good in _that?_ So he could feel better about being too much of a idiot to ask her out when he had the chance?

 

Jericho shook his head at himself, got to his feet and slipped his jacket on. He’d waited long enough on this. Shit, he should have asked her out the first time he got her coffee, never mind coming in at the eleventh fucking hour when some other guy had probably asked her on a date.

 

He felt like a _stupid_ idiot as he pressed the button for the elevator and waited in the hallway, his hands in his pockets. Shit, maybe the stairs would be quicker. Was the elevator _broken?_

 

The doors finally slid open with a soft ding and Chris whipped back around from staring contemplatively at the stairwell. He was greeted by the sight of Kevin Owens, whose eyes widened when he saw Chris. Jericho snarled, lunging into the elevator and tackling the other man. Kevin’s back hit the opposite side of the elevator, mashing random buttons.

 

Chris rained blows on the Universal Champion’s head, yelling a blue streak in a mixture of half-assed French and heartfelt English as the elevator rolled down and then came to a halt at the floor below. Kevin fumbled to escape the older man’s onslaught to no avail; the elevator doors slid shut again. Owens finally got free of Jericho when the doors opened to the foyer, bolting over him and sprinting to the bar. Chris picked himself up, furious that Owens might escape him in the dimly lit area.

 

“Owens you get your ass back out here!” He shouted as he stormed into the bar, “Get back out here and fight me like a man, you punk!”

 

“I don’t think so Chris, I’ve got your little girlfriend!” Kevin replied, sounding positively triumphant as he wrangled the woman in question off her barstool. “ _Ta pu-_ ”

 

“She’ll kick your ass too, you stupid idiot!” Chris raged, cutting the other man off before he could finish. “Don’t call her that, don’t you _dare_ call her that!”

 

“I’ll call her whatever the fuck I w–!” Kevin’s smirk was wiped off his face when she got a hand free and delivered a punch that looked like it rattled his teeth.

 

“Let me _go!_ ” She snapped, pulling back for another strike. Owens, clearly not expecting the level of resistance he was getting, all but threw her at Jericho and then sprinted past him to the stairwell. Chris barely managed to catch her, knocked off balance himself by the force Kevin had put behind his shove.

 

“Christ. You okay?” He panted. “You pack a mean wallop, princess, how’s your wrist?”

 

“What the hell was that about?!” She asked, her voice pitched slightly higher than normal as she completely ignored his own question. “Chris, what the ever-loving– _jeez!_ ” Her hands rested on his chest, shaking just a little bit.

 

Chris didn’t know whether it was the adrenaline talking, or maybe he was just sick and tired of everything crashing down on him, but he crushed her body against his own and proceeded to kiss her until he was breathless. “Are. You. _Okay_.” He gasped, pressing his forehead to hers.

 

“Yeah I…yeah.” She replied softly, looking dazed. “You just…”

 

“Yeah.” There was a sinking feeling clawing at his chest, but he kept her pressed tightly to him. “I was coming down here to tell you and then he was in the–”

 

She grabbed the lapels of his jacket and kissed him back. Chris was dimly aware of a few wolf-whistles and cheers from her coworkers, but he couldn’t be fucked to pay attention to them. All he could focus on was how soft her lips were against his own; her whole body molded to his like it was meant for him, _fuck_.

 

“We have to go to the room.” Chris breathed. She didn’t reply and he forcibly pulled back, shaking his head to clear it. “Fuck. _Fuck_. C'mon, princess.” He grabbed her hand, his heart pounding loud in his ears as her fingers willingly laced with his own. “Get your ass into that elevator.”

 

Pinning her against one of the side walls in the elevator was a strategic move, Chris decided. It meant that if Kevin reared his ugly head, she would be protected by his body. Also she made _fantastic_ noises as he kissed up her neck, which was a great bonus. “Fuck, Chris, _p-please_.” She moaned, her fingers raking down the back of his jacket.

 

“I’ve got you sweetheart, I’ve got you.” Jericho murmured, unable to keep from arching his back. The motion pushed their hips together and she whimpered, hands flying to his belt buckle. “Whoa whoa, easy. In the room. Owens is still around, I want you safe.” Chris caught her hands, kissing her knuckles and smiling at her. “I’m gonna’ keep you safe, princess.”

 

She looked up at him and Chris almost lost his control. Her hair was just a tiny bit mussed, her lips kiss-swollen and slightly parted. Her tight dress had moved an inch or two up, exposing a little more skin. She looked _delicious_ and Chris wanted to _devour_ her right then and there, unable to keep from pressing her back against the metal wall and kissing her hard. If this was the universe’s way of making Kevin’s treachery up to him, he could _definitely_ live with it.

 

The elevator doors opened and Jericho jerked upright, but the hallway was deserted. He still didn’t breathe easy until the door to their room closed behind him. Then, oh then…

 

She dropped to her knees without him saying a damn thing and Jericho couldn’t help the approving noise he made as she undid his belt. “That’s right, princess, you know what you want. You’ve always known, right?” He said, unable to keep from chuckling when he noticed her blushing. “Take what you want.”

 

“You’re not fair, you know that?” She asked, her voice a little breathy.

 

“You don’t get far in life by being fair, princess.”

 

“Good to know.” She unzipped his pants and fumbled with his boxers for a second before freeing his cock. Chris’s fingers wound into her hair, stroking the soft strands appreciatively. Her lips pressed to the head of his cock, kitten licks teasing the head of it while Jericho hissed in a breath. It had been a while since he’d let anyone get near his dick. “ _Don’t stick your cock in crazy,_ ” had served him well over the years, almost as well as his pickup lines.

 

“Ever been put in the Walls Of Jericho?” He asked her suddenly, watching her brow furrow in confusion. “It’s a memorable experience. You’ll really feel it in your lower back and stomach when I’m on top of you, princess.”

 

She started laughing, getting to her feet. “You’re ridiculous.” She said with a smile as she wiggled his jeans off his hips.

 

Chris hiked her skirt up a little more, his fingers digging into the waistband of her panties. Black this time, of course, to match the dress. “May I?”

 

“ _Yes_.” Her voice was just _barely_ there, her eyes half-lidded and pupils blown with arousal. “Please, Chris.”

 

“ _Fuck_ , that’s a good look on you.” He groaned, sliding the underwear down her legs. “This dress stays on. How do you want me, princess?” Jericho’s fingers slipped over her pussy, slick coating his digits. He pressed his lips to her ear, voice dropping to a hoarse whisper. “I already know you want my cock in you, so tell me _where_ you want it.” Her mouth opened and closed, no sound coming out. “I asked you a question, princess.”

 

“Can I ride you, please please let me ride you?” She begged finally. “Please Chris, I–“

 

“Shh, I know, I know.” Chris soothed, pulling his jacket off. “I’ll take care of you.”

 

“You have no idea how surreal this is.” She admitted while he unbuttoned his shirt. “I…I used to watch you on TV when I was little.”

 

“Not when you got older? What, too cool for wrestling?” Chris teased.

 

“No, I was more confused by the feeling I got in my stomach when I watched it.” She replied nonchalantly.

 

Chris almost choked on the breath he sucked in, laughing incredulously. “Seriously?”

 

“Mm, it made it tough to watch!”

 

“Shit, I don’t know if anyone’s ever told me their 'sexual awakening’ story. I’m flattered, princess.”

 

“Oh my God, shut _up_.” She squeaked, putting her hands over her face.

 

“Ah ah, no hiding from me, princess. This is apparently a _very_ special occasion for you.” Jericho couldn’t resist teasing her a little more, sliding a single finger over the back of her shoulders as he circled her. “You’ve been pretty patient, I guess.”

 

“Patient enough to deserve a reward?” Oh no, she was _on_ to him. Better yet, she was playing along.

 

Chris nodded, laying back on the bed and holding the base of his cock. “I’d say so. Come here, princess.” Without any hesitation, she climbed up on the bed beside him. Jericho smirked, feeling more than a little self-satisfied. “Think you’re wet enough to take all of me?”

 

“Won’t know until I try, right?” Shit, she was going to _kill_ him.

 

Chris chuckled a little breathlessly. “Wanna’ grab my wallet, princess? In the jacket.” She bent over the side of the bed and Chris bit his lip at the sight. “Good girl.” He didn’t expect her to take his cock into her mouth after she tossed him his wallet, one of his hands flying to the back of her head. “ _Shit_ , princess, damn you’re good at that.” He panted, loving the way she rolled her tongue.

 

She removed her mouth with a lewd ’ _pop!_ ’, looking pleased with herself. Chris was pretty sure the look she gave him was illegal. All pretty eyes and spit-slick lips, _Christ_.

 

“Get up here. Get up on my cock. Take what’s yours, princess.” He ordered, fists clenching at his sides when she straddled his hips. “That’s right, that’s right, take what’s yours.”

 

She leaned down to kiss him, her hand holding the base of his cock steady. Jericho groaned out when the head of his dick finally entered her, startled into opening his eyes when she twined her fingers through his own and whimpered desperately. Then, she sank slowly down onto him in one long, tender push, her eyes half-lidding again when their hips were flush. She was oddly silent through the whole thing, teeth latched onto her lower lip.

 

Chris rasped something along the lines of _fucking Christ_ , clapping a hand to either side of her body and holding her still for a few seconds. “M’ gonna’ fucking come right off the bat if you move, if you know what’s good for you don’t move.” Her hips kept fucking _twitching_ and Jericho threw his head back, staring up at the ceiling and breathing hard. “ _Fuck_ , princess, you–”

 

“I came, I came, I’m so sorry!” The words sobbed out as Chris felt her spasm on his cock, and that last little shred of self-control he had was hard-pressed to keep him from coming on the spot. “ _F-uck_ m’ so sorry, so sorry–”

 

“Why the _fuck_ are you apologizing?” He asked through clenched teeth, dragging her down so he could press their foreheads together. “We’re having _sex_ , you’re supposed to come when you’re having sex. Other times too, masturbation, y'know. But shit, _why_ are you apologizing?”

 

“I didn’t mean to, I promise.” She said softly, sounding ashamed. “I wanted to wait until you…”

 

“Trust me princess, I won’t let you be a one and done. Now lean back and fuck those hips down onto me.” Chris ordered, sighing when she obeyed. Her hips were quivering, her thighs a little shaky as she rose up on her knees and then sank back down. She was so fucking _wet_ after coming, her cunt still rhythmically gripping his cock with aftershocks while she braced herself back on his thighs. Chris realized she was watching his cock push in and out of her with a dazed expression, like she still couldn’t believe this was happening. Jericho wondered how many times she’d gotten off on the idea of doing something like this with him. His smirk returned in full force. “Oh princess.” He called in a singsong tone, making her eyes jerk up to his. “How long have you wanted to fuck me, huh?”

 

She went _bright_ red and Jericho barely kept in a moan at how fucking _cute_ that was. “I–”

 

“How many nights did you spend rubbing this little pussy raw thinking about me?” Chris hadn’t gotten this filthy in _years_ , but fuck it. “Did you think something was wrong with you when you _finally_ came for the first time, princess? When everything went white and then sound came back and you were fucking _shaking_ with your fingers on your too-sensitive cunt, not sure if you made noise or not?” He bucked his hips up _hard_ , gripping her thighs tightly. She whined at his words and Chris sought her clit out with his thumb, rubbing slow circles on the sensitive area. “Did you wonder what I would feel like under your hands, in your mouth?”

 

“So good, Chris, oh my _God-!_ ” She panted, leaning down so she could kiss him hungrily. Jericho eagerly reciprocated, his palm landing on her ass cheek with a resounding _smack!_ She jolted, whimpering into his mouth when his tongue stroked her own.

 

“Sorry, got carried away. Usually I ask first.” Chris apologized, grunting in surprise when she ground down onto him harder. “Princess likes it when I give her a little tap, huh?”

 

“Again, again, please Chris _please_.” She begged, making him fucking _snarl_.

 

“Alright, alright, what Chris’s princess wants she _gets_.” He felt her spasm at that. “ _Ah_ fuck, you like when I call you _my_ princess? You’re _mine_.” Chris stated firmly.

 

“Mr. Jericho-!” She gasped. Her whole body went still as she seemed to realize what she’d said, and she looked at Chris nervously. “S-Sorry, I, um…”

 

Chris was pretty sure he’d never been this hard in his _life_. “You want to call me Mr. Jericho that bad, huh?” He noisily licked her slick off his thumb, making her moan softly and shift her hips. “Fucking _do_ it then, princess, call me whatever the hell you want. Just keep fucking me, _please_. I can’t get enough of how good you look on my dick.” He pleaded. “Your little pussy takes me so fucking good, these hips are driving me fucking _crazy_ , please– _f_ - _ah_ , shit, princess-” His words choked off when she started touching herself while she rode him, Chris watching hungrily and taking mental notes as she squirmed and rolled on his cock.

 

“Mr. Jericho, I’m so close, p- _please_ -”

 

“Good fucking thing.” Jericho managed to say, making her giggle and moan at the same time in a sound that went straight to his cock. “I’m close too, princess. What do you need?” He swallowed hard when she took one of his hands and pressed it to her cheek. She was smiling down at him like he was something fucking _incredible_ , like she… _shit_ , he shouldn’t even be _thinking_ that. It was just how her eyes looked, that was all. He cupped her cheek, pretty sure he was grinning like some kind of stupid idiot. He didn’t really give a shit though.

 

“Touch me, please?” Her request was so soft, almost like she was ashamed of it. Jericho wasn’t having it, he was _way_ too hard for her to let her feel as if _asking_ for something to get her off was greedy.

 

“Princess you fucking _tell_ me to touch you. I’m already touching you, where do you want me to touch you?” The hand on her cheek slid to the back of her neck and he roughly dragged her down against him, his other hand swatting her ass again.

 

She shuddered, fucking _mewling_ and arching into him, chanting,“ _Yes Mr. Jericho, yes Mr. Jericho_ ,” over and over. Chris was pretty sure that was his new favorite thing to be called, latching onto her hips and driving his cock up into her hard and fast. “ _Fuck_ , yes!” She cried out suddenly, “just like that, _just_ like that, _fuck!_ I-!”

 

“You gonna’ come, princess? Gonna’ come again on _Mr. Jericho’s_ cock?” Chris panted in her ear, groaning long and low when she started shaking. “ _Fuck_ me, yeah you are. Come all over my dick, princess.” She kissed him, seemingly to muffle her desperate whimpering. The noises she made coupled with how her cunt was gripping him like a fucking _vise_ was enough to shatter his aforementioned last little chunk of self-control, and Chris pinned her mercilessly to his hips as he came.

 

Her chest was heaving for breath and Jericho was sure he didn’t look much better, unable to stifle the chuckle that he panted out at the look on her face. She was _all_ kinds of rumpled now, her hair a mess, dress slid up to her stomach. _Perfect_. “Christ, princess, you’re amazing.” He huffed, startled when she all but collapsed on his chest and curled up. Her body kept shuddering, little aftershocks rolling through them both in a delicious cadence. “Fucking Christ.”

 

“I’m so tired.” She whispered, her voice sounding like it was about to give out. “Wow. Thank you.”

 

“Sleep, princess. You’ve had a full day.” Chris urged, sitting up and easily lifting her off his cock. “Just…lay down, okay? You want a glass of water or something?”

 

“I was scared when he grabbed me.” She admitted hoarsely, hiding her face against his side. “I didn’t know what to do.”

 

“Shit, that’s right.” Chris had totally forgotten about Kevin. “I…let me see, come here. I should have checked before we…fuck, I’m sorry.” He apologized, examining her wrist worriedly. “I’m an idiot.”

 

“Well if you’re an idiot I must be a stupid idiot.”

 

Jericho snorted, kissing her hand. “You’re a scrappy idiot if you are one, shit, looked like you dislocated his jaw.” He got up from the bed, stretching and yawning loudly. When he returned with the glass of water though, she was already asleep. Chris took the moment to study her, his mouth quirking up in a smile. A real one.

 

He put the water on the bedside table and gently rolled her over, unzipping her dress and peeling it back off. “Shh.” He hushed her when she whimpered. “Just me. It’s bedtime, princess.” She allowed herself to be tucked in, hugging the pillow tightly while Chris climbed in on his side of the bed and picked up his List. He clicked his pen absently for a few minutes, reading and rereading the names in front of him without really seeing them.

 

Chris finally sighed and flipped all the pages over the back of the clipboard, staring contemplatively at the dull metal of the clipboard. His pen, like it had a mind of its own, started spelling her name out on the worn surface. He traced it a few times, each pass slightly deepening the little scratches in the metal. When he wiped away the ink the impression was still there. A tiny heart beside it completed the odd addition, and he felt weirdly content with himself.

 

He put the List on his bedside table and slid down in the blankets. She reached out to him as he got comfortable, naked body hot against his own in the bed. Chris hummed, legitimately happy for the first time in God only knew how long. He buried his face in her hair and crooned softly, “Master of A Thousand And Four Holds, right? I guess you’re the thousand and fifth because let me tell you, you’ve got a _tight_ fucking grip on my heart princess.” She murmured wordlessly in her sleep, her legs tangling with his own. “Sleep good, princess.”


End file.
